


He Didn't Know

by shnuffeluv



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Holmes Bro Feels, I Blame Tumblr, I'm Sorry, TW: Drug Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off this Tumblr post:<br/>http://shnuffeluv.tumblr.com/post/137701795697/vanetti-jenna221b-mrsmusicaddict<br/>Warning: FEELS TRIP</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Didn't Know

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mycroft doesn't know everything.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/170134) by jenna221b. 



There were some things that Mycroft didn’t know until it was too late. They were large enough that he needed a file, but not so large as to make the file noticeable. He sat down in a plane seat, Sherlock back from his exile, and flipped through his notebook--his file on Sherlock.

_ “That freakshow just blew up the science lab!” a teacher said. _

_ Mycroft stood next to his parents, who were standing behind a sulking Sherlock. Freak. It was a word Mycroft had heard far too often when describing Sherlock, from kids and adults alike. Sherlock may have been stony-faced, but Mycroft remembered the first time someone said that to Sherlock. They had been playing pirates in the front yard and Sherlock had waved to one of the people from his kindergarten class. The response had been immediate: “Leave me alone, freak!” _

_ The very word sent bile rising up Mycroft’s throat. “Well if you don’t want to cause an explosion, you shouldn’t leave chemical that can have such a volatile reaction together out in the open where anyone can reach them!” he snapped. _

_ The principal turned from where he’d been staring at Sherlock to the teacher. “Is that true?” he asked. “Did you leave those chemicals out?” _

_ “Well, yes, but the freak--” _

_ “I don’t want to hear you call him that again, you hear me?!” Mycroft had growled. “He’s my brother!” _

_ His parents waited until Mycroft was done before adding their arguments, and Sherlock had ultimately gotten off with a week’s worth detention. But that word had stayed with him, more than it had when the other students had said it. _

Freak. It was the first word in Mycroft’s file.

_ “It’s fine, Mycroft. There’s just been a nasty bug going around school. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.” _

_ “I just slept in, I promise.” _

_ “I just have a headache, you know about sensory overload as much as I do.” _

_ Mycroft bit his lip, but let it drop. Surely it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Sherlock couldn’t possibly be using anything, especially not over the word he’d been faced with since he was 5 years old. _

But he had been. And when Mycroft turned the page in his accursed notebook, there was the scrawl of an address and the very first list Mycroft had gotten from his brother.

_ Sherlock had been in and out of consciousness for 15 minutes now, muttering something about a drowned boy and saying the word “freak” over and over again like a mantra. _

_ The paramedics arrived and tries to push Mycroft away from Sherlock, but Mycroft fought them. “No, you can’t! Let me stay, please!” he started crying. “H-he’s my brother, please!” _

_ When Sherlock had come to, Mycroft was still sobbing, but was sent further into shock when his brother mirrored his actions. _

Last night, Sherlock was too quiet. Mycroft suspected something was off, but still he had hoped...no. Sherlock had gotten his hands on some narcotics again. Mary’s words ring in his head as he finally steps off the plane. “He didn’t seem high.”

He wouldn’t. But Mycroft had noticed and pushed the notion away. He was slipping when it came to his baby brother.

“Maybe there are some things that I know that you don’t,” Sherlock taunts him on repeat.

“I know,” Mycroft mutters, fighting back the sting of tears. “I have a file.”

The notebook shuts with a resounding snap and Mycroft walks off like nothing happened. Like Sherlock said, he was going to need a pardon.

Mycroft was such an enabler.


End file.
